10-02-2010, 12:34 AM
On the outside, self doubt had never been a plague of the Doombite family. Both Drumgar and Lirshar had shown great tenacity and strength as young pups; and as such, were the only two out of five siblings to not drown at birth. Three brothers had all met their fate in the depths of a swift river. They had not met their Father's expectations. They were the failures. But Drumgar and Lirshar? They were meant for greater things. They were meant to carry on the family line. They were meant to succeed where the others had failed. It was this pressure that they dealt with, the burden they carried on their worked shoulders. Two siblings out of five. Two hearts beating for the rest.
Lirshar was twenty-six years old. She wasn't a pup any longer, or at least not in her own eyes. She had earned her name fighting repeatedly against Veterans of the Honorguard, refusing to back down when they continuously engaged her with challenges. She took blow after blow to the face, and finally the fight ended with three Warsong on the ground. They were bloody and bruised, and Lirshar herself had at least one black eye and a broken nose. Those had been the days of youthful vigor and an invincible fighting spirit. And when still referenced as “pup†at this age, Lirshar was apt to challenge and argue for the use of her earned name. It was her badge of honor, her bit of pride that she had earned on her journey.
But where was she now? Still twenty-six, and the pressure was bearing down on her more than ever. She was mateless again, childless; and when compared to her older Brother, rather unsuccessful in terms of strength and title. Gladiator Drumgar Bloodpaw, Arena Master and Champion of the Earthshaker Clan. He was her hero to admire, her hero to look up to. He alone stood as the exemplary target for her admiration, and the focus for her drive, but he was also a source of her insecurity. She was always second and standing in his shadow, always haunted and reminded of her failures. His presence, as inspiring as it could be, always forced her self-doubt to surface. There it meandered about her consciousness and spread like some hidden disease. First it would claim her mental well-being, then the physical. Hesitation, racing thoughts, sweaty palms; these would become the symptoms of a fatal epidemic that raced through the undercurrent of Doombite blood.
The zeppelin ride back from the Blackskull Cabal prison island was invigorating. With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Lirshar felt like an animal ready to pounce. She was a wild thing, and united with her younger self. The self that had not been stifled by her experiences in Northrend, or frightened by close encounters with death. She sat alone up on the deck of the flying ship, carefully penning some of her thoughts. Her revitalized self rather enjoyed the surge of wind upon her face, and she steadied her hand with deep breaths.
The zeppelin starts to descend, and the note is crumpled up and shoved into a crowded satchel of belongings.
Lirshar was twenty-six years old. She wasn't a pup any longer, or at least not in her own eyes. She had earned her name fighting repeatedly against Veterans of the Honorguard, refusing to back down when they continuously engaged her with challenges. She took blow after blow to the face, and finally the fight ended with three Warsong on the ground. They were bloody and bruised, and Lirshar herself had at least one black eye and a broken nose. Those had been the days of youthful vigor and an invincible fighting spirit. And when still referenced as “pup†at this age, Lirshar was apt to challenge and argue for the use of her earned name. It was her badge of honor, her bit of pride that she had earned on her journey.
But where was she now? Still twenty-six, and the pressure was bearing down on her more than ever. She was mateless again, childless; and when compared to her older Brother, rather unsuccessful in terms of strength and title. Gladiator Drumgar Bloodpaw, Arena Master and Champion of the Earthshaker Clan. He was her hero to admire, her hero to look up to. He alone stood as the exemplary target for her admiration, and the focus for her drive, but he was also a source of her insecurity. She was always second and standing in his shadow, always haunted and reminded of her failures. His presence, as inspiring as it could be, always forced her self-doubt to surface. There it meandered about her consciousness and spread like some hidden disease. First it would claim her mental well-being, then the physical. Hesitation, racing thoughts, sweaty palms; these would become the symptoms of a fatal epidemic that raced through the undercurrent of Doombite blood.
The zeppelin ride back from the Blackskull Cabal prison island was invigorating. With adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Lirshar felt like an animal ready to pounce. She was a wild thing, and united with her younger self. The self that had not been stifled by her experiences in Northrend, or frightened by close encounters with death. She sat alone up on the deck of the flying ship, carefully penning some of her thoughts. Her revitalized self rather enjoyed the surge of wind upon her face, and she steadied her hand with deep breaths.
Spoiler:
Someday you will know these thoughts. Someday, we will stand side by side in battle. Maybe back to back. You will shout to me. Maybe something like “Gol'Kosh bin mog g'thazag cha!†will come out of your mouth. I don't need protection, really. I am a capable Warrior, even more so when I've got my worg by my side. But I think I just like the thought of our partnership meaning something deeper. Both of us are willing to give our lives to protect the other at a moment's notice. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever fight about who gets to die for who. Do we have that kind of relationship, you and I? Will we share some tragic and romantic end? Will we die the sort of deaths that are worthy of a Lok'vadnod?
What are we to one another? Who am I to you? I'm not really sure I know the answers to these questions. I wish I could read your mind at times like these. I love watching you smile after we've proven ourselves victorious on the field, though. It's funny, because you seem happiest during the fight. When we're not working or being productive, you always seem so glum. I suppose I will just have to make it my priority to make you smile more. I hate the fact that this plan so often backfires. Ahh…terrible irony.
When I am close to death, when I can see my life blood spilling before my eyes, I am reminded of all the things I have never said. All the things I wish to say, all the things I should say. I am not sure why my lips are so hesitant. Perhaps it is because I have made so many mistakes, and continue to make so many mistakes. That has to be it. I don't want this to be another one. I want these words to come at the right time, in the right moment. I don't want to fail you or disappoint you. Maybe here and there I will drop bits and pieces of my unspoken gratitude, but it will never be enough. In all these casual conversations and greetings, there is never enough power with my words.
I have spent so much time ignoring these feelings, or doubting them because of the path I ended up taking with my life. I cannot carry on this way forever. Someday, before the end, I will just have to show you how I feel…unless you show me first.
How I love you. How I try to deny it. How I continuously fail at it.
What are we to one another? Who am I to you? I'm not really sure I know the answers to these questions. I wish I could read your mind at times like these. I love watching you smile after we've proven ourselves victorious on the field, though. It's funny, because you seem happiest during the fight. When we're not working or being productive, you always seem so glum. I suppose I will just have to make it my priority to make you smile more. I hate the fact that this plan so often backfires. Ahh…terrible irony.
When I am close to death, when I can see my life blood spilling before my eyes, I am reminded of all the things I have never said. All the things I wish to say, all the things I should say. I am not sure why my lips are so hesitant. Perhaps it is because I have made so many mistakes, and continue to make so many mistakes. That has to be it. I don't want this to be another one. I want these words to come at the right time, in the right moment. I don't want to fail you or disappoint you. Maybe here and there I will drop bits and pieces of my unspoken gratitude, but it will never be enough. In all these casual conversations and greetings, there is never enough power with my words.
I have spent so much time ignoring these feelings, or doubting them because of the path I ended up taking with my life. I cannot carry on this way forever. Someday, before the end, I will just have to show you how I feel…unless you show me first.
How I love you. How I try to deny it. How I continuously fail at it.
The zeppelin starts to descend, and the note is crumpled up and shoved into a crowded satchel of belongings.